


On Tactics

by Keibey



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keibey/pseuds/Keibey
Summary: For all of Robin's brilliance when it came to strategies, the man wasn't very good at taking care of himself.





	On Tactics

He had just pulled off his cape and tossed it over his discarded armour when the flap to his tent threw open, the noise of the insistent rain becoming louder for a brief moment. Robin stood there dripping, and he could see that even the cowl hadn’t managed to save the white hair from the rain.

“Robin! You’re a sight,” Chrom frowned at his tactician.

“It hadn’t let up in a while,” Robin said, a note of sheepishness in his voice, and Chrom shook his head.

“Take off that cloak,” he said as grabbed the blanket off the cot. He turned back just as Robin was shrugging off the short undercoat as well, muscles shifting under pale skin; even the tunic was slightly damp. Robin shook out the droplets slicking down the white hair, and Chrom bit back a laugh as the man huffed, unsatisfied with the results. He beckoned his tactician closer.

“Our scouts returned with their reports,” Robin informed him, flashing Chrom a grateful smile when he wrapped the blanket around the man’s shoulders. “The enemy positions are as I suspected, but the rain is worse than I feared. We will have to change the route for our march tomorrow, or risk losing our horses to the mud.”

“What do you suggest?” Chrom sat down on the cot. Robin joined him, their knees brushing, and unfurled a map across their laps.

It was completely dry, unsurprisingly -  Robin was careful with everything that wasn’t himself. He would try to reason with Robin, if he thought he had even the slimmest chance at convincing his tactician of giving himself even half of the concern he paid his fellow Shepherds.

“There aren’t many roads we can choose from, but this one seems the most promising.” Chrom found himself being distracted from the route Robin’s finger was tracing, focused instead on the animated look in the brown eyes. The sharp intelligence in them as his tactician translated lines into terrain, obstacles into solutions -

“Chrom?” The brown eyes were on him now. “Are you listening?”

“Of course.” Chrom roused himself, glancing down at the point where the slender finger rested and trying to recall the trail it had traced over his thigh. “We go southwest, through the forest.” He paused, did a quick calculation in his head. “Two days to the garrison, right?”

Robin was watching him carefully, and Chrom didn’t think for a moment that he had managed to fool his tactician. The teasing smile that greeted him only confirmed it. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed or offended that I finally got something from our lessons to stick, only for you to use it like this. Should I look for a new profession?”

Chrom shook his head with a chuckle. “I will be quite lost without you.”

“As it should be,” Robin said, mischievousness shining in the brown eyes, and Chrom couldn’t help but laugh outright. “Do not fear, my prince, I intend to be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I will remind you of that the next time you call me sentimental.”

“I would expect nothing less, from the man who would describe us as two halves of a whole.” The last word wavered with a shiver Chrom felt more than saw, and he tugged at the folds of the blanket so that he could wrap it around them both. His hand trailed from Robin’s lower back up to rest on the man’s shoulder, thumb slipping under the sleeveless tunic as he rubbed circles against the chilled skin. The touch drew a contented exhale that left Robin slumped heavily against him, head resting on Chrom’s bare shoulder, and the dampness from the white hair raised goosebumps on his skin.

“Tired?” A quiet noise of assent was the only answer. “I thought I made it clear that you are supposed to take breaks.”

His tactician laughed, the sound trembling along Chrom’s side. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the nagging wife in this relationship.”

“You’re too meticulous for me to nag you in anything else.” Chrom shifted, moving his hand up to card his fingers through the hair at the nape of Robin’s neck. “Rest a while.”

“And fuel the rumours further, milord?” The mirth was obvious, even if he couldn’t see the expression that went with the teasing question.

“No one could fault you for falling asleep here, after watching you run about all day.”

“You make a tempting offer,” Robin allowed, making a quiet noise in the back of his throat when Chrom’s fingers moved over a particular spot.

“Good,” he said, lingering over the spot with gentle brushes of his fingertips, and felt himself grin at the way Robin seemed to melt. He kicked off his boots. “I was just thinking I’d like a nap myself.” Chrom rolled up the map one-handed and carefully set it aside, and a simple motion had his tactician down on the cot with him.

“How sly, my prince,” Robin murmured. White hair and warm breath tickled Chrom’s skin as his tactician shifted, the thud of heavy boots hitting the ground the only warning before cold feet pressed against his legs. It would have been a whole less bearable without the rest of Robin’s warm body curled up beside him. “One would almost suspect you of having premeditated this.”

Chrom laughed. “Peace, my clever tactician.” He tucked one arm behind his head and let his other hand resume his ministrations. “You can wonder about my nefarious plans after you’ve slept.”

“Hmm, I guess I’ll simply have to content myself with using the Halidom’s great prince as a pillow.” Robin’s hand had found its way onto Chrom’s chest, fingers splayed over his heart. It made him wonder if the man was counting his heartbeats, that the part of his tactician that never stopped worrying for his comrades was lulled into quiet by the steady rhythm.

And Robin had become so important to all of them - to _Chrom_ \- in turn. The man was the wind at his back, the sword at his side...

Chrom turned his face into the white hair, whispering a short prayer for rest to Naga. His tactician deserved so much, all that he could give and more. A few hours as a pillow was paltry in the face of what Robin did for him. 


End file.
